KEEPER

by Ingrid Seymour

  Ashby returned his tortured gaze to her. A strange feeling of longing filled her. His strong jaw set firmly and his thick eyebrows furrowed in an anxious expression. Those black eyes had lost their initial twinkle and now seemed haunted. Suddenly, in her roller coaster of emotions for the guy, she felt sorry for him and thought that it might be best to indulge him.

  “Listen, it’s okay. I consider myself warned,” Sam said.

  Ashby’s worry lines relaxed and some of his previous warmth returned.

  “I wish I could tell you more, but that would be a mistake.” He was speaking quickly now, but his words were choked. Fervently, he seized both her hands again. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers gently. Sam was petrified by this total stranger’s gesture. Still, even though she knew “stranger” was the right word, a small part of her felt as if she knew him already.

  “Please remember, there’s a reason for what is about to happen, and soon everything will be as it should.” He paused and looked around again. “I need to go.”

  Sam found herself clinging to Ashby’s hand, as if to stop him from leaving. He smiled tenderly and deposited her hand on her lap with utmost delicacy, as if she were made out of glass. He stood and looked down at her with something like anxious frustration. He didn’t want to leave. He opened his mouth and closed it again, then abruptly turned and walked into the crowd.

  She looked down at her hand, then back in Ashby’s direction. Her eyes danced through the crowd, but she couldn’t spot him. He’d vanished in the short instant she took her eyes away from him. For a few seconds, Sam sat on the bench rooted to the spot. Finally, she shook her head. Loud music, voices and laughter regained their normal volume. Nervously, she peered all around her, waiting from someone to jump out from behind a plant to tell her she’d been duped. When no one did, she got up and wobbled off on gummy legs. She walked away, forgetting her unfinished milkshake and shopping bag, feeling as if the world had been turned on its head.

  Chapter 5 - Ashby

  As soon as he materialized in his bedroom, Ashby knew he was in trouble. Violet eyes glared at him, and a shrill voice pierced his ears like a thousand tiny needles.

  “What on Earth were you thinking, you stupid child?”

  Ashby objected to being called a child and stupid, but thought better of saying anything. Regent Danata looked blue with rage, as if she’d not taken a breath for the last ten minutes. Veins pulsed furiously at each of her temples. Displays of temper were nothing new, but this bluish tint certainly was. One of her fists shook in front of Ashby’s face. Stiff as a board, he kept his nose away. Little could be done when she got this way, except take it like a man.

  “This is the stupidest, most inconsiderate thing . . . you’ve ever done . . . in your life!” Her words were like hammer blows, and with each breath her right eye twitched.

  Ashby’s eyes darted around his bedroom until he spotted Perry. The young Sorcerer was practically hiding by the large windows, behind one of the velvet curtains, his back terribly close to the bare stone walls common throughout the castle. Portos, Perry’s mentor and the Regent’s High Sorcerer, was there too, clutching the lapels of his tweed jacket and standing by the door, ready to run in case Danata’s wrath boiled over.

  Well, Perry had been right—the castle had measures in place to alert them to security breaches. He’d warned Ashby not to go, had also reminded him that only certified Sorcerers were allowed to perform magic—especially a transportation spell—on current or future council members. Ashby had insisted, tired of waiting, desperate to finally meet his Integral. Though the truth was, it hadn’t really taken that much convincing. Perry had agreed after little insistence, and he’d magically transported Ashby to Indiana for his own selfish reasons—namely, learning those special spells. I shouldn’t have to feel so guilty about it. Perry knew the risks. But still.

  Poor Portos, on the other hand, his only crime was being Perry’s mentor. The old man hadn’t known of Ashby’s plans. He shouldn’t have to suffer the repercussions. Except he was the High Sorcerer, and claiming ignorance of his pupil’s behavior wouldn’t help him; not with Danata. Now that Ashby thought about it, Portos had probably been the one with the unfortunate task of informing the Regent of the breach, after one of his spells detected the use of magic within the castle walls.

  “What if something had happened to you in that godforsaken place?” Danata continued, “We might have been unable to help you. If only God had given you a single gram of common sense.” She held a pale finger up. “You, of all people, received the worst of the lot in terms of prudence.”

  Ashby rolled his eyes. If only he had a gold coin for every time she’d said that.

  “And you!” She swiveled and pointed her accusing finger at Perry, her green silk dress and black hair billowing with the force of her movements. “Don’t think I have forgotten about you. Soon you’ll wish you’d morphed into a mere Companion instead of a Sorcerer.”

  “With all due respect, Mother,” Ashby intervened. “Perry was following my orders.”

  “Is that so? Then he’ll suffer the consequences for both his lack of restraint and his inability to discern a stupid order from a sound one.”

  Perry and Portos kept their eyes averted, but Ashby defied his mother by walking right up to her. She glared back, her narrow face impervious, her long neck stiff and stately.

  “The punishment should come to me alone,” Ashby said in a clear tone. “As a member of my retinue, Perry would be breaking the law if he disobeyed my orders. I made that very clear to him when he first refused.” It was a lie, of course. Perry had never refused. He’d simply warned Ashby of the dangers, then done as he was told, eager to learn new spells that Portos wouldn’t teach him yet.

  Opening and closing her mouth, Danata seemed ready to quash his explanation, but said nothing. She couldn’t argue with his reasoning. The young Sorcerer was under his command, and had been since Ashby came of age two months ago. As the future Regent, he was entitled to a retinue of skilled, young advisers as soon as he morphed. By tradition, such an entourage was assigned to future rulers to forge good relationships between would-be Morphid leaders and would-be council members.

  His mother hated to lose a battle, no matter how small, and was beside herself with fury. Ashby began to fear the punishment she might be devising inside her head at that very moment. He needed to distract her.

  “Um, I met her, Mother,” he blurted out. “I had to go. You know this.”

  Sam’s image returned to Ashby’s mind, and suddenly he didn’t care if his mother sentenced him to walk across the Sahara desert as punishment for his disobedience. It had been worth meeting her, no matter the consequences.

  “She’s everything I thought she would be,” he added dreamily.

  The fear that he would be forced to be without Sam, for who knew how much longer, suddenly assailed him. Walking to the nearest chair, he sank down, oblivious to what his mother may do to him. The sound of a clock ticking filled the silence. It was past midnight on this side of the world. Ashby looked around his room, trying to imagine what Sam might be doing in her home and the things she might have in her room. Surely, her possessions were nothing like the array of ostentatious objects fastidiously arranged here: Louis XVI chairs, leather sofas, suits of armor, damask cushions of all shapes and sizes, jewel-studded stands, exotic plants in every corner, sculptures and paintings, massive four-poster beds, the old and the new combined in impossible harmony. What would she think of this place with its old stone walls, underground dungeons and many turrets? Would she like it? Or hate it?

  His life was so different from hers. Would she like England and its impossible weather? Would she miss her home too terribly when she came here? Yes, it was different, but the same sun and the same moon shone in the sky. The land gave its fruits and the wind blew the leaves just the same. It couldn’t be that bad. She could learn to love it, if she didn’t right away.


  In the two months since he found out his Integral was in the United States, Ashby had been trying to learn as much as possible about these differences, wishing he had paid more attention to his international studies earlier on. If only he could know more about the world Sam called home. If only his mother hadn’t kept him so sheltered his whole life.

  He looked up and, under the new light, saw that his mother’s anger had been replaced by curiosity. Surely, she wanted to know about Sam—her future daughter-in-law—almost as much as he did. Still, she’d forbidden him to visit her and ordered him to wait for her to be ready to morph. So he supposed she could hardly start asking the questions that must be burning on her tongue. His mother was too proud.

  “She’s fine. She seemed like a great girl,” Ashby said, hoping to change the subject.

  The Regent’s stern expression returned. “You two disobeyed me in more ways than one.” She looked from Ashby to Perry. “You used magic, breaking our laws in the process, and went against my explicit orders to wait.”

  Perry had also “borrowed” material from Portos’s library to learn the conjuration to transport Ashby to the correct geographical coordinates, but Ashby wasn’t about to add to his list of offenses. Not if Portos hadn’t. The old man squirmed uncomfortably and gave Ashby a wary, defeated look. Clearly, he wasn’t going to tell on himself, though Ashby had the feeling the Sorcerer’s library would be locked after this. But Ashby was beyond caring about the rules and his mother’s orders, even if she was the Regent. Being away from Sam was painful. Every day that went by was agony. And of course Danata knew nothing of that pain and anguish. She was a Singular—not linked to anybody, full only of herself.

  “I had to find her, Mother,” Ashby said. “Not seeing her was driving me crazy.”

  “You were instructed to wait until the connection between you grew stronger, until she came of age.”

  “I don’t understand why I have to wait,” Ashby said in frustration.

  “We’ve been over this already. Do I need to explain again?

  “To hell with the law. You’re the Regent. You can make allowances for your son.”

  “Do not let anyone hear you say that!” Danata barked. “The law is clear, and to be of any use, it needs to apply to everyone, regardless of their birthright. Contacting Morphids outside our known channels is strictly forbidden. It endangers our kind. If the Council finds out about your escapade, they won’t be lenient, even if you’re my son—especially because you’re my son. Luckily, Portos detected the breach before anyone else.”

  “Samantha, her name is Samantha in case you’re wondering, is not a dissident,” Ashby said with sarcasm, furious that his own mother didn’t care about his suffering or happiness. His mother always assumed anyone not found in the Morphid census was a dissident by default—which is what she’d decided about Sam as soon as he pinpointed her location to Indiana, a place where there were no registered Morphids.

  “And you know that how?”

  “She doesn’t even seem to know about our kind. I believe she thinks she’s human.”

  Danata’s eyebrows went up. “Is that so?”

  He nodded.

  Her eyes tightened and danced from side to side as she puzzled out the idea. “What makes you so sure? She could be lying.”

  Sam’s honest face appeared in Ashby’s mind’s eyes. “She was not. And even if she were, it won’t matter once she morphs.”

  Danata was slow to answer. Her thoughts seemed to wonder elsewhere. “Regardless,” she said, after shaking herself back into the moment, “there are proper ways to deal with this sort of situation, and you must follow them.”

  “But it could be months before she morphs! In the meantime, an official inquisitor could determine whether there has been foul play or not.”

  “A minor cannot be questioned by any officials. You know that well.”

  “She. Is. Not. A. Criminal. She’s my Companion,” Ashby yelled.

  His harsh words seemed to slap Danata on the face, leaving behind a shocked and astonished expression. She stood mute, looking back in disbelief. He’d never talked to her this way. Guilt tried to claw its way into Ashby’s chest, but he closed himself to it.

  She couldn’t continue this nonsensical line of reasoning. True, the official census had failed to identify any Morphids living in Indiana, but that didn’t automatically make Sam a dissident. Danata shouldn’t immediately assume that Sam had gone against the Regency and its policies. She shouldn’t refuse to let Ashby meet his Integral, forbidding all means of getting information, such as an inquisitor or a private investigator. The whole affair was ridiculous. Sam was too young. She couldn’t be a dissident, couldn’t be blamed for something her parents had probably done thirty years ago when many Morphids had gone into hiding, concealing their identities—not only from humans, but from their own kind.

  Of course, it didn’t help that the entire subject was a sore one with his mother. It had been Morphid laws instituted by a young Danata, when she first came into the Regency, what had sparked dissidence in the first place. Laws like the census itself, which required every Morphid to register with the Council, had caused objection in many circles and even sent people into hiding. They accused the new Regent of wanting to institute a police state. “Big Brother,” George Orwell’s style. It was ridiculous. His mother had only wanted to take stock of their dwindling numbers, in an effort to find out why Morphids were a dying species.

  His mother had to understand that Sam wasn’t a criminal. Ever since his mark revealed Ashby as a Companion, however, his mother had distanced herself from him, as if disappointed. As a Singular, Danata had never been tethered to another Morphid. When she needed a mate, she found someone suitable and got what she wanted out of him: Namely, a successor to the Regency. Ashby never knew who his father was, and often wondered about his fate, but the topic had always been off limits. Danata was completely independent, free to govern the Morphid council without interference, as she called it. But she knew better. Discord was never an issue between Companions. Ashby would be just as capable as she to lead their kind. Having Sam at his side would only make him stronger.

  Danata turned her back on Ashby, straightened and clenched her fists. As she answered, he wished he could see her expression.

  “All the more reason to follow the rules,” she said in a chilling voice. “We don’t want to risk a scandal. There are many who would seize the opportunity to challenge your leadership. I do this for your own good, son.”

  “Let me go back and stay with her until she comes of age,” Ashby practically begged.

  “No,” she said plainly.

  Ashby tugged at his hair in frustration and growled. “It’s not fair, Mother.”

  “I know.” Her tone was suddenly one of understanding. She unclenched her fist, faced him, and slowly walked to him. She stopped only a few paces away.

  Ashby stiffened and looked up into her violet eyes with suspicion. She put a hand on his forearm and moved her long fingers back and forth, caressing him. She smiled kindly, an uncharacteristic gesture, and one to which Ashby was unaccustomed. He guessed she loved him in her own way, but her attempts were always controlling, and only came when she had a vested interest. Real empathy was something Ashby never thought her capable of.

  Everything had been so much simpler before he came of age. No impulses or longing to find his Integral, no tugs or urges that nearly drove him mad. His mother just couldn’t understand, couldn’t begin to comprehend the deep need brought by being linked to somebody else. If he at least knew how much longer it would take for Sam to morph, maybe . . . maybe he could wait.

  Ashby stood and walked away. “I will do as you say . . . ” for now.

  The Regent opened her mouth and seemed on the verge of saying something, but stopped. Instead, she merely inclined her head in acknowledgment. Ideas were already forming inside her head—Ashby could tell by the sudden, liquid quality of her gaze. It frightened him to even imagine what
she was planning.

  “A punishment must be chosen, Portos,” she said, turning to her High Sorcerer.

  “Mother, decide on my punishment and leave Perry out of this. I’ve already told you he was following orders.” Time to distract her again. “Besides, nothing happened to me. I’m fine and most importantly, I have met Samantha. Actually, Sam is what she prefers.”

  “Sam?!” she asked with distaste. “Samantha is hideous enough. Sam is simply horrendous. It’s a boy’s name. Americans are just so . . . crass.”

  So far, so good. If Ashby kept this conversation off track, there would be no more mention of punishments. His mother would have made an example of him if there had been others involved, but only Portos and Perry knew of his disobedience. She might let it go.

  “Yes, she goes by Sam, and I don’t think it’s horrendous. I rather like it.”

  “Oh, of course you do,” Danata said, waving one hand with a scoff.

  “Is she well, Ashby?” Portos spoke for the first time, sensing the danger had passed.

  “Yes.” Ashby’s face lit up with a smile as he remembered Sam standing by the jewelry store.

  After Perry transported Ashby, and he appeared next to a gigantic flower pot inside the mall, his first sight was Sam herself. Unlikely as it might have been, Perry’s very first attempt at such complicated magic had been one hundred percent successful. After a huge effort divining Sam’s exact location, learning how to actually transport Ashby to those coordinates had taken even more work and research. Perry had to learn how to visualize the location in order to deliver Ashby to a safe location and not inside an innocent bystander. That wouldn’t have been pretty.

  Understandably, the young sorcerer was apprehensive, and warned Ashby that a mistake at any stage of the process could land him hundreds of miles away from Sam; or, worse, lost in another dimension—without any possibility of return. But Ashby had been too desperate to care, and after all, Perry jumped at the chance to learn something worthwhile, a welcome break from the nonsense Portos called an “age-appropriate education.”